'I don't know yet.'

'Upon my soul, I think you must be out of your senses. Really, sir, your behaviour is childish. You tell me that you are a surgeon of some eminence ...'

'I surely told you nothing of the sort.'

'Anyhow, you read papers before learned bodies and have them printed.

And you come with as silly a story as a Staffordshire peasant who thinks someone has been trying to poison him because he's got a stomach-ache.

You may be a very admirable surgeon, but I venture to think I am more capable than you of judging in a case which I attended and you know nothing about.'

'I mean to take the steps necessary to get an order for exhumation, Dr Richardson, and I cannot help thinking it will be worth your while to a.s.sist me in every possible way.'

'I shall do nothing of the kind. I think you very impertinent, sir. There is no need for exhumation, and I shall do everything in my power to prevent it. And I tell you as chairman of the board of magistrates, my opinion will have as great value as any specialist's in Harley Street.'

He flounced to the door and held it open. Susie and Dr Porhoet walked out; and Arthur, looking down thoughtfully, followed on their heels. Dr Richardson slammed the street-door angrily.

Dr Porhoet slipped his arm in Arthur's.

'You must be reasonable, my friend,' he said. 'From his own point of view this doctor has all the rights on his side. You have nothing to justify your demands. It is monstrous to expect that for a vague suspicion you will be able to get an order for exhumation.'

Arthur did not answer. The trap was waiting for them.

'Why do you want to see Haddo?' insisted the doctor. 'You will do no more good than you have with Dr Richardson.'

'I have made up my mind to see him,' answered Arthur shortly. 'But there is no need that either of you should accompany me.'

'If you go, we will come with you,' said Susie.

Without a word Arthur jumped into the dog-cart, and Susie took a seat by his side. Dr Porhoet, with a shrug of the shoulders, mounted behind.

Arthur whipped up the pony, and at a smart trot they traversed the three miles across the barren heath that lay between Venning and Skene.

When they reached the park gates, the lodgekeeper, as luck would have it, was standing just inside, and she held one of them open for her little boy to come in. He was playing in the road and showed no inclination to do so. Arthur jumped down.

'I want to see Mr Haddo,' he said.

'Mr Haddo's not in,' she answered roughly.

She tried to close the gate, but Arthur quickly put his foot inside.

'Nonsense! I have to see him on a matter of great importance.'

'Mr Haddo's orders are that no one is to be admitted.'

'I can't help that, I'm proposing to come in, all the same.'

Susie and Dr Porhoet came forward. They promised the small boy a shilling to hold their horse.

'Now then, get out of here,' cried the woman. 'You're not coming in, whatever you say.'

She tried to push the gate to, but Arthur's foot prevented her. Paying no heed to her angry expostulations, he forced his way in. He walked quickly up the drive. The lodge-keeper accompanied him, with shrill abuse. The gate was left unguarded, and the others were able to follow without difficulty.

'You can go to the door, but you won't see Mr Haddo,' the woman cried angrily. 'You'll get me sacked for letting you come.'

Susie saw the house. It was a fine old building in the Elizabethan style, but much in need of repair; and it had the desolate look of a place that has been uninhabited. The garden that surrounded it had been allowed to run wild, and the avenue up which they walked was green with rank weeds.

Here and there a fallen tree, which none had troubled to remove, marked the owner's negligence. Arthur went to the door and rang a bell. They heard it clang through the house as though not a soul lived there. A man came to the door, and as soon as he opened it, Arthur, expecting to be refused admission, pushed in. The fellow was as angry as the virago, his wife, who explained noisily how the three strangers had got into the park.

'You can't see the squire, so you'd better be off. He's up in the attics, and no one's allowed to go to him.'

The man tried to push Arthur away.

'Be off with you, or I'll send for the police.'

'Don't be a fool,' said Arthur. 'I mean to find Mr Haddo.'

The housekeeper and his wife broke out with abuse, to which Arthur listened in silence. Susie and Dr Porhoet stood by anxiously. They did not know what to do. Suddenly a voice at their elbows made them start, and the two servants were immediately silent.

'What can I do for you?'

Oliver Haddo was standing motionless behind them. It startled Susie that he should have come upon them so suddenly, without a sound. Dr Porhoet, who had not seen him for some time, was astounded at the change which had taken place in him. The corpulence which had been his before was become now a positive disease. He was enormous. His chin was a ma.s.s of heavy folds distended with fat, and his cheeks were puffed up so that his eyes were preternaturally small. He peered at you from between the swollen lids. All his features had sunk into that hideous obesity. His ears were horribly bloated, and the lobes were large and swelled. He had apparently a difficulty in breathing, for his large mouth, with its scarlet, shining lips, was constantly open. He had grown much balder and now there was only a crescent of long hair stretching across the back of his head from ear to ear. There was something terrible about that great shining scalp.

His paunch was huge; he was a very tall man and held himself erect, so that it protruded like a vast barrel. His hands were infinitely repulsive; they were red and soft and moist. He was sweating freely, and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead and on his shaven lip.

For a moment they all looked at one another in silence. Then Haddo turned to his servants.

'Go,' he said.

As though frightened out of their wits, they made for the door and with a bustling hurry flung themselves out. A torpid smile crossed his face as he watched them go. Then he moved a step nearer his visitors. His manner had still the insolent urbanity which was customary to him.

'And now, my friends, will you tell me how I can be of service to you?'

'I have come about Margaret's death,' said Arthur.

Haddo, as was his habit, did not immediately answer. He looked slowly from Arthur to Dr Porhoet, and from Dr Porhoet to Susie. His eyes rested on her hat, and she felt uncomfortably that he was inventing some gibe about it.

'I should have thought this hardly the moment to intrude upon my sorrow,'

he said at last. 'If you have condolences to offer, I venture to suggest that you might conveniently send them by means of the penny post.'

Arthur frowned.

'Why did you not let me know that she was ill?' he asked.

'Strange as it may seem to you, my worthy friend, it never occurred to me that my wife's health could be any business of yours.'

A faint smile flickered once more on Haddo's lips, but his eyes had still the peculiar hardness which was so uncanny. Arthur looked at him steadily.

'I have every reason to believe that you killed her,' he said.

Haddo's face did not for an instant change its expression.

'And have you communicated your suspicions to the police?'